Eressea Is Where You Heal
by illyria-pffyffin
Summary: Frodo had left for The Blessed Realm hoping that he would be saved from the terrible hurt The Ring had left him. But once in Eressea, he found out that it was not to be.
1. Default Chapter

**Author's Note:  My deepest gratitude to Arathlithiel for proofing this and telling me that it is not that bad ****J**

**ERESSEA IS WHERE YOU HEAL**

**29th September, 1421 SR**

Dear Sam,

I do not know why I write this letter.  I certainly cannot send it to you.  But I am writing it anyway.  Perhaps it is from the habit of old, keeping track of everything that happened everyday.   Or perhaps because I just need to write this down, share everything that I see and hear and feel, and talk about it a good deal.  There are not that many people I can talk to.  Bilbo is asleep most of the time.  And I still feel quite uncomfortable talking to the greats; Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond and the fair Elves of their houses.  I can only talk easily with Gandalf, but I cannot do this often.  The Elves keep talking to him too, and they talk about such great, important matters: history of Middle-Earth, great wars of old, ancient kings and lords.  I feel so simple and uncouth beside them.

I feel that it is safest and best to write to you, Sam.  I can write to Merry and Pippin too, perhaps, but somehow I know they will not understand it the way you do.  You are the only one who knows what nightmare we had to live in just a few years back.     Only you will understand this.

The wind is favouring us, Sam.  The sails are billowing, bright under the sun.  We are making good speed.            Gandalf found me sitting next to Bilbo and asked if I was all right.  I said that I was excited and happy, but the old dear did not miss a trick.  He said, "Something is troubling you, Frodo.  Out with it."

"Well, Gandalf, I've been wondering," I said, rather ashamedly.  "Do they have the same calendars in Eressea?"

He looked puzzled for a while, but then smiled.  "Days in Eressea are different from that of Middle-Earth.  I cannot say why or how.  But time seems to stand still there.  Everyday is very much the same as the day before and the one after.  But because everyone is always merry and content, time does not matter anymore.  It is being alive and enjoying it that counts."

I looked at the Elves.  They sat side by side, singing.  Their voices seemed to melt into the air and made everything as warm as summer morning and as fragrant as the woods in spring.  I know the Elves shall not fade and perish and to be with them gave me great peace.  There is little doubt in me, Sam, that I am saved at last and I shall find a refuge and healing in Eressea.  But I said there is _little doubt.  The question did not entirely desert me.  There is that uncertainty.  6th October is very near, only a week away.  Can the Sea put enough distance between me and the dark memories, and let me be free again?  I do not know, Sam.  _

Frodo Baggins


	2. A Letter to Sam 2

**2nd October, 1421 SR**

Dear Sam,

We arrived in Avallone this morning on a rainy day.  We knew that we had passed to the West when we heard beautiful song wafting in the wind and smelled a gentle scent of flowers in the air.  Elves welcomed us in the haven.  They sang praises to Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and all the lords and ladies of their houses.  It reminded me of Cormallen all over again, Sam, the way they welcomed us.

"A laita te, laita te!  Andave laituvalmet!"

"Eglerio! Eglerio!"

Would that you were with me again, Sam!  You would have loved to see so many Elves and listen to their singing.  

Gandalf had to carry Bilbo, because he had fallen asleep again and could not be awakened.  A strange thing happened when I walked down from the ship.  The Elves, who were radiantly happy, suddenly seemed to have a strange, dark shadow passing over their eyes, and they looked at me queerly.  I thought I saw pity in their eyes, but perhaps I was wrong.  I thought I also sensed fear.  

Bilbo and I occupy a small house (a _house_, Sam, not a _smial_) near a forest up on top of a small hill. The house looks like the ones we saw in Rivendell, only more beautiful and seems to be part of the hill, rather than something built into it.  The walls and ceilings are decorated with beautiful carvings.  And it was this that made me feel even more grateful to have come here.  

Do you know what pictures were carved into the walls?  The Shire!  The Shire with the trees and running waters and fields green and rippling.  It is so beautiful that I think if I look at it hard enough, the trees will begin to sway in the wind, the water will trickle and ripple and there will be all the familiar hobbit voices around.  Yours will probably be the loudest, yours and Rose's and Merry's and Pippin's.  I will always miss The Shire, I suppose, but somehow having it so close to me in my own bed chamber helps to overcome the longing. 

Eressea is beautiful beyond everything I have ever seen.  Rivendell and Lothlorien have their special beauty, but Eressea surpasses them.  I do not know why it seems so fair in my eyes.  Certainly everything is very much the same with other places.  There are the lush green meadows, clear running creeks and brooks, stately mountains, restful forests, and sunshine, and wind, and rain.  But there is a light in them that make them so pleasing to the eyes and soothing to the heart.  It is probably the blessing of this place that makes it beautiful in the eyes of all that see it.  I do not know.  I only know that to be here makes me feel a lot younger again.  Even Bilbo is excited.

Elves came to visit us and asked many questions about The Ring and The Quest and The Fellowship.  And about hobbits and the Shire.  You would not believe it, Sam.  Some of these Elves have never seen hobbits before.  They had fled from Middle Earth before we hobbits emerged as something more than mere hearsay.  They have so much to tell, Sam, of the days long ago, before even the Shire was around.  They spoke of Gondolin, and Menegroth and a bitter war called Tears Unnumbered (in Elvish it is Nirnaeth Arnaoediad).  Bilbo was so excited to hear it that he asked me to be his scribe and write everything the Elves told us, so we can make another book.  Fortunately, he still fell asleep often, so he could not see if I did write anything.  I prefer to just sit back and listen.  

After lunch…  But before that, I must tell you about how thoroughly the Elves look after us, they even know that we hobbits eat six meals a day, and they provide generously.  The food is very wholesome and leaves us full for hours, to tell the truth.  But perhaps it comes from sheer hobbit habit, Bilbo and I still stick to the old mealtimes, even though we were not really hungry.  But really, Sam, if you see the food we have here, you will understand.  Eating here is no longer something we do to stave off hunger, but to enjoy.  I fear that very soon you shall not recognize me at all. I suppose I shall be very fat and round, that to go down to Avallone all I have to do is roll myself down the hill.  

Well, after lunch, Gandalf came to ask me to go for a walk.  Needless to say, Bilbo was asleep again after lunch, so we did not bother to ask him to go with us.  Gandalf took me to a very tall hill that overlooks the Sea and pointed to a spot in the horizon.  It was very bright, brighter even than the blue sky.  It seems to be shimmering and sparkling like a golden jewel.  It was Valinor, Sam, Valinor!  Island of the Valar, where Gandalf comes from.  A twinge of anxiety clutched at my heart when I knew this.  I thought Gandalf would leave Bilbo and I in Eressea.  But he laughed and said that he would be staying with us in Eressea for a long time, maybe forever.  

It is night now, Sam, long past my bed time at home.  But I feel neither weary nor sleepy yet.  I can still hear the Elves singing, a softer song now, as befits the quiet of the night.  Even the wind seems to hum a melody.  It is neither cold nor overly warm.  The stars in the sky are so bright and they seem so near that I feel I can grab a handful if I reach out.  Earendil rose majestically, most brilliant and fair.  I think I am already in love with Eressea.

Frodo Baggins


	3. A Letter to Sam 3

**4th October, 1421 SR**

Dear Sam,

We are busy being idle!  In the morning Gandalf comes over to have breakfast with Bilbo and me.  Two breakfasts, like we do in the Shire.  Elves come and go, sometimes having meals with us, sometimes just stopping for a small talk.  They seem to thrive on songs and tales alone, Sam!  Everyday some of them drop by and take us to a lovely spot near a lake or a circle within the forest and we have our elevenses and lunch out there in the open. 

The Elves already taught us (well, me, mostly, because dear Bilbo, excited though he is about everything, is asleep most of the time) some songs and games.  They have also begged me to teach them a few of our jolly hobbit tunes!  Ah, would that you were here!  You will amuse the Elves better than I do, what with your troll song, your oliphaunt song, and I don't know what other songs you have stored in your head.  I have taught the Elves Bilbo's favourite bath song though, and that silly song I sang in Bree, the one with "the cow jumped over the moon".  Oh, you should see how tickled the Elves were to hear them, simple as they are.  Just this afternoon, when most of them departed from our home, I could hear them singing snatches of the songs and laughing among themselves.      

After the songs and games we usually go down to the creek and splash around, chasing each other.  Really, Sam, the Elves behave very much like young hobbit lads and lasses sometimes.  Well, except the very great and grave ones.  I do not think Lord Elrond or Lady Galadriel will consent to have picnics with Bilbo and me.   Afterward I take a very long nap, sometimes at home, or out in the open, under the sun.  Then we have tea, then more tales and songs until dinner time.  Then a walk with Gandalf and a varying number of Elves, down to the shores where we watched the stars emerge in the deep blue night sky.  Then we go home, just in time for supper.  Then more tales and one last song for Bilbo (who probably does not hear it, the poor dear), then the Elves bid us good night, and I go to bed.  I am not tired, but the time seems right for a deep, restful sleep, and so to bed I go.  

That sums up my days in Eressea so far.  I am a bit ashamed, Sam, of my idleness.  This is worse than Bag End, even then you and Rose pampered me like a baby (not that I complain about it, Sam).  But there really is no toil and hurry in Eressea, the Elves, maybe because they have all the time the world, go about everything leisurely.  And it is easier, much easier, to go along.  

Frodo Baggins


	4. A Letter to Sam 4

**8th October, 1421 SR**

Dear Sam,

It was as I feared.  The shadow had cunningly followed me even to the Blessed Realm.  It was a great blow to me.  I had hoped and even half-believed that Eressea would heal me of the memories of darkness.  But it did not come to be.  

I woke up on the morning of 6th October with a dead feeling in my left shoulder and arm.  A chill spread from the scar of the old wound and I felt so weak that I could not get up from my bed.  Just like in the days when I carried the tiny shard of Morgul blade in my wound all the way to Rivendell, the world seemed to be veiled in shadows and I could not see clearly.  I was so frightened.  

Gandalf offered to call Lord Elrond, but I told him not to.  I did not wish to trouble anyone.  But Gandalf said that Lord Elrond would be troubled if he was not told of what happened.  I finally gave in, with the condition that Bilbo should not be told of it.  Lord Elrond came and though at first I hated to trouble him, I was grateful that he came.  He gave me a drink that lessened the deathly cold and brought some strength back to my limbs.  The pain and darkness did not entirely go.  But Lord Elrond's touch was a great help.

I tried very hard to go through the day as I usually do, but it was exhausting and when I was weary, the pain throbbed more and the chill sharpened.  The Elves seemed to sense that I was in some kind of trouble and they were exceptionally gentle with me.  Sometimes, when the Elves sang, the pain eased a bit and sunshine broke through the shadows and I could see clearly.  And when we played and danced, when their fair hands touched mine, when the Elves kissed me on my brows, warmth crept into my limb and the pain diminished.  But it never did leave me that day.  

The next day I felt much better. I was already up and about when Gandalf came with Lord Elrond.  I was given another draught of the sweet potion Lord Elrond gave me the day before.  Then the three of us sat together and talked.  I asked Lord Elrond why I keep having these lapses.  He said:

"You have been deeply hurt, Frodo.  You have a wound that goes beyond flesh, a wound to your very soul.  The Witch-King's blade has that power within it, to rob you little by little of the control over your will and memories.  Fortunately we took the shard just in time, but not before it did its dreadful harm. Your skin might mend, your arm heal.  But deep inside you the wound still festers."

I saw Gandalf look at me in concern.  I could only sit in silence for a while, horrified.  Will I have to live with the memories of shadow for the rest of my life?  What good is my flight from the Shire if I could not find healing in Eressea?

"I am sorry, Frodo," Lord Elrond went on.  "Even my skills could not help you in this matter.  You must find the cure within yourself."

"How?" I asked desperately.  

"When you know that the past cannot hurt you, that there are more pleasing memories to dwell in, you will be cured," he said.

"I know that," I said.  But I know I did not, otherwise I would have stayed in the Shire still.

Lord Elrond smiled wisely.  "Do not let it worry you overmuch.  It will help you more if you let other thoughts occupy your mind rather than brooding on this pain from the past.  And in that, Frodo, the Elves of Eressea shall help you."

And they do, Sam, oh, how they do.  They seek always to divert my mind from dreading the darkness that followed me into Eressea.  Today I went with some Elves to a valley in eastern Eressea.  And there, even in near winter, flowers abounded in such wealth of colours and beauty that even Bilbo stayed awake long enough to see them all.  Then after lunch, Gandalf and I went boating with some Elves (of Eregion, no less, Sam!  The place where The Rings of Power were forged in older days!) and I napped under a beautiful mallorn tree (very much like yours in Hobbiton) while the Elves sang and played among the trees.    

Even now, dear Sam, when Eressea is half-asleep under the soft lullaby of the wind, the shadows that haunted me a mere two days ago seemed to have receded so far that it appeared to be nothing more than a nightmare.  Such is the healing power of Eressea, Sam.  I might have some hope after all.

Frodo Baggins


	5. A Letter to Sam 5

**1st January, 1422 SR**

Dear Sam,

Forgive me for not writing for a long time.  It was not from lack of things to tell, I can assure you.  It was also not from lack of time, for, verily, time is all I have here in Eressea.  And please never think for a moment that I have forgotten you, or Merry, or Pippin, or Rose, and little Elanor, and the Shire, and our King Elessar and Queen Arwen and Legolas and Gimli.  Indeed, all of you are with me here, laughing and singing and rejoicing with me.  Perhaps that is why I have not troubled to write at all for months.

My days are still spent Elf-fashion, always in the pursuit of beauty and knowledge and enjoyment.  I have spent long days learning Elvish languages.  The Elves taught me also to understand the speech of trees and flowers and birds and other animals.  Do you remember how Legolas seemed to be able to talk to his beloved Arod and thus earning the horse's loyalty and obedience so easily?  Well, that is what I am learning now.  It is difficult, for the speech of nature is different from ours in that they speak not in words but entire messages.  But the Elves are wonderful teachers, Sam, and though I make very slow progress, they never tire of teaching me.  

I do not know how he did it, but Gandalf had obtained for Bilbo and me a couple of beautiful, snow-white ponies.  I named mine Strider (how is my Strider at home?) and Bilbo named his Bombur, because the pony is fat and loves to eat.  Bilbo and I, sometimes with Gandalf, but most often with our Elven friends, go on long rides and camp in the remotest reaches of Eressea far from Avallone.  Other days we go sailing from Avallone, sometimes very far out of the shores and I could take a better look at the glowing Valinor.  We keep always a respectful distance away from it.  

I have the most wonderful time here in Eressea, Sam my dear. I hope you and the others are having the most joyous time too in Middle-Earth.  How I miss you all!

Frodo Baggins


	6. A Letter to Sam 6

**15th March, 1422 SR**

Dear Sam,

Do you remember that three years ago (has it only been three years?  It seemed much longer to me) you rescued me from the Orcs in Minas Morgul?  I can find no word to thank you enough for your courage and faith.  

I am writing because of something that happened two days ago.  It was when Bilbo and I and a few of our Elven friends were camping on the valley overlooking the Sea.  The whole ground was blanketed in spring flowers and the place was perfect for camping.  We spent the whole day and night of the twelfth telling tales, singing and playing Elvish games, and I fell asleep fully expecting another day of fun.  But it was not to be.

On the thirteenth I woke up with a dull ache spreading from my neck down.  Then I remembered what happened that day three years ago and a grey cloud seemed to fall over me.  I tried hiding it from the others, especially dear Bilbo.  But toward midday it got worse and the Elves wondered why I looked so pale, but I felt I could not tell them.  It was too dark a memory.  But the pain became so bothersome that after lunch, when Bilbo had fallen asleep again, I walked away to be alone.

I do not remember what happened.  But the next thing I knew I woke up back in the camp, and there was Gandalf and he had with him a flask with Lord Elrond's medicine that he made me drink.  He said he had ridden out from Avallone, feeling that I might need his aid.  He had found me standing on a cliff, facing east, yelling to the wind.  This is what he told me I have said:

"Leave me alone!  He has perished, he is no more!  Why do you linger!  Can't I have my life back!  Leave me be!  Go back across the sea and trouble me no more!  Go away!"

Then, he said, I collapsed on the ground, weeping.  And when he came to me, he said that I was already half-conscious from the pain, and I was calling you.

I know you cannot save me, Sam, not this time.  But three years ago you did.  And I shall live to thank you for it.  I shall not give in to the terror.  I shall enjoy my life to the fullest.  I shall not be defeated.  

Frodo Baggins


	7. A Letter to Sam 7

**29th September, 1422 SR**

Dear Sam,

A year ago I left you, Merry and Pippin, in the Grey Haven.   It seems so long ago.  Much has happened here, as, I am sure, does in The Shire.  There was a party last week, a really big one, to celebrate Bilbo's birthday and mine.  He is now 132 years old, very healthy, but sleeps more often and becoming even more forgetful, except about mealtimes.  It seems to me that he wakes up only to have meals now.  

He was, however, very excited about his birthday.  For months he had prepared the presents he wished to give the Elves, or to be precise, he told me what he wanted to have, and I prepared it for him.   Of course the Elves need nothing.  So Bilbo and I made up poetry, songs and tales about each particular Elf, some humorous, some ridiculous and a very few were plain serious.  So on our birthday, between meals, I sang these songs, and the Elves were happy to receive their gifts.  They knew nothing about the song-presents.  Bilbo was very satisfied.  

I wonder, Sam, if you ever question my decision to leave the Shire.  I have told you why before we parted, but it was not the whole of it.  Yes, I know and believe that you will have a far larger role in the Shire and you did not need me to hinder you.  But to be completely honest, Sam, I have never felt the same about the Shire after we returned.  It seemed distant to me, strange, and different.  I have seen darkness and terror and evil and I could not shake them from my mind.  

I have never told you this, but there is a reason why I stayed away from much of the goings-on in the Shire after I resigned my job as Deputy Mayor. Sometimes when we had parties, and the other hobbits were laughing and singing, suddenly all I could think of was the Orcs jeering at me, pawing at me with their filthy claws, whipping me, their stink suffocating me, and I could not breathe.  Or I would walk to the hills and all around me were spring flowers, but all I could see was that mountain, Mount Doom, looming over me.  And the air was so hot and choking and foul with ashes.  And I would feel weak all over again, as though the Eye was still upon me, bending me to Its will. Sometimes I wanted to shout to all those merrymakers, because life is full of pain and fear and despair.  But then I realised I got it wrong.  A grim Shire is not the Shire at all.  But I also felt so out of place in the happy and peaceful Shire.  I could not walk through shadows and terror and return to the Shire unscathed.  I have not your strength, Sam.  So I had to leave.

I hope you can understand it now.  I hope you can forgive my leaving you while you had never failed nor deserted me before.  

Frodo Baggins


	8. A Letter to Sam 8

**7th October, 1422 SR**

Dear Sam,

The pain in my left shoulder returned yesterday, not as severe as last year, but still it weakened me so much that I was loath to leave my bed in the morning.  But I was determined not to be beaten this time and I staggered around the house, pretending nothing was wrong.  But my laughter sounded odd and contrived, my singing voice cracked and broke, and I kept shivering despite the warm air.  I was glad when Gandalf came with Lord Elrond.  

But today I felt fine.  Next year, perhaps I will ask for a sleeping draught and sleep the day away.  I just hope I shall not have shadowy nightmares then.

Frodo Baggins


	9. A Aletter to Sam 9

**7th January, 1423 SR**

Bilbo died in his sleep very early this morning, Sam.  I wished to write more, but my fingers shook so much, I could not hold the pen.  Later, perhaps.


	10. A Letter to Sam 10

**10th January, 1423 SR**

Dear Sam,

Bilbo was brought to The Hall of Endless Dream early this morning.  It is a marble hall high up on the hill that overlooks Valinor, built only days after Bilbo and I arrived in Eressea. It is where they keep the dead in the Undying Land.  

Bilbo called for me around midnight of the sixth.  He rarely sent for me after our bed time, so I knew something was wrong.  He was wide awake, which was another strange thing.  He asked me to sit beside him, and I took his hand.  His face was serene and he seemed years and years younger.

"Well, my dear Frodo, this is it, I'm afraid," he said, and his voice was strangely firm and even.  "I am sorry that we can no longer celebrate our birthdays together."

I was beginning to tremble with fear.  "What do you mean, Bilbo?" I said.  "You don't want to miss your 133rd birthday.  The Elves are preparing a party beyond your imagination yet.  They are experimenting with food and fireworks every day and new songs are rehearsed in your honour and …"

Bilbo smiled and pressed my hand.  "I'd love to be there, lad.  But really, it's too much of a bother now.  I don't think the Elves would appreciate it if I slept through the party."

He closed his eyes and seemingly fell asleep.  A dark fear wrenched at my heart and I looked wildly around at the Elves, but they only stared at me with eyes full of comfort and sympathy.   Do something, I tried to say desperately, but my voice did not come.

The Bilbo's eyes opened again.  "I have a question to ask you, Frodo, before I go," he said, and I nearly cried when he mentioned the word "go".  "Do you ever regret moving in with me?"

"Bilbo, you old dear!" I cried.  "Why would I regret it?  It was the best thing that could ever happen in my life!"

Bilbo smiled.  "Good.  I felt the same way too.  Only I keep thinking that if you had stayed at Brandy Hall, you would not have inherited The Ring, and you would not have had to go to that dreadful…"

I was unable to speak.  

"Otho, or Lotho, would have gotten it," Bilbo went on calmly.  "I suppose they would put It to all sorts of mischief and then maybe He would find them and do…whatever it was He did.  But at least you would be safe in Buckland."

"Bilbo, please," I begged him.  "I won't have you feel guilty over what happened.  It was the best way that things could have ever turned out.  I could not bear to imagine you going alone to Mordor to destroy The Ring and I suppose Otho and Lotho would have only made matters worse."

Bilbo smiled.  His tired eyes suddenly brimmed with tears.  "Do you still have that dream?" he said.

"What dream?" I asked, puzzled.

"Whatever dream it was that made you scream in your sleep.  You were calling for Sam to help you.  Something about the Eye and orcs," said Bilbo, his eyes full of sadness.  "You woke me up once or twice with those screams."

I was taken aback.  I did not know I talked in my sleep, especially not so loud that Bilbo could hear it.  And dreams about the Eyes, and the orcs?  Oh, Sam, I felt so guilty for ruining the old hobbit's peace in Eressea. "Bilbo, I'm sorry," I said, taking Bilbo's hand and caressing it.  "I'm so sorry.  I never meant…  It was just a dream."

"I'm the one who's sorry, lad," said Bilbo, and he stroked my cheek.  He began to weep, his tears rolled one by one on his parched cheeks on to the pillow.  "Forgive me for everything."

I did not know what to say.  I gripped Bilbo's hand and nodded.  I was only vaguely aware that Gandalf had come and sat on the other side of Bilbo's bed, holding his other hand.

"Wish me a good dream," said Bilbo, smiling to both of us.

"What would that be?" asked Gandalf.  

"My 111th and Frodo's 33rd birthday," said Bilbo.  "The fireworks and musicians.  The children and their toys.  The food."

"Good one," said Gandalf.  "Goodbye, old friend."

"Goodbye, my dear Gandalf," Bilbo said, squeezing Gandalf's hand.  "Keep two eyes on Frodo, I know you can spare them now."

"I will, Bilbo," said Gandalf.  "I will."

Bilbo turned to me, and he was smiling. "I have never thanked you for coming to live with me in Bag End.  So, thank you.  Enjoy the party for me."  He winked and closed his eyes.  He died an hour later.

Frodo Baggins


	11. A Letter to Sam 11

**11th February, 1423 SR**

Dear Sam,

Bilbo's death was very hard to bear.  Not only for me, but I think for the whole  of Eressea as well.  Death is completely unknown here, something the Elves do not understand.  They were stricken with the grief and sense of loss.  Even the wind seems to blow softer these days, and the sun seems veiled. The Elves made laments for Bilbo, but I told Gandalf I wanted to hear none of it.  Not right now.  I wish to mourn him in my own private way.  

I wish to remember his voice, his laughter, his songs.  I wish to look back on the first days we spent together in Bag End, the trips we had, the parties we held, the talks by the fire in the kitchen.  I must admit that the memories are painful because they were so sweet, and fair, and are mine alone now, no longer _ours_.  

And that is why, Sam, this is going to be my last letter to you.  Losing Bilbo had meant, more than anything, losing the Shire.  I think I cannot bear writing to you anymore, Sam, and imagining that you are still within reach and able to come to share this anguish.  Every time I write to you, I will remember the distance that spans between us, I will remember that there is no other hobbit in Eressea but me.  And it is a heavy and lonely thought, Sam, I cannot bear it.    

Farewell, my dear Sam.  Until we meet again.

Frodo Baggins


	12. A Letter to Sam 12

**_------_**

My dear Sam,

I do not know what date today is in the Shire Reckoning.  I do not even know the day.  I have passed many, many years in which all the days are equally merry and peaceful, that I am afraid I have lost count.  

But let us be a little adventurous here and call today Day 1, AS.  AS will stand for After Samwise.  How do you like that?

I was asleep yesterday, Sam, in front of my mural.  I have taken up painting for about ten years or so, and though I do not seem to get any better at it, at least I enjoy it.  And for the last few months, I have been trying to paint the merry halls where I spent my childhood in Buckland.  But I suppose it comes with age, the visions were vague and fleeting now, not as vivid as they used to be, and I have grown a habit of sleeping when I have no idea of how to paint something, because sometimes I can still see it in my dreams.  Or maybe, like Bilbo, I have grown so old that I need more sleep anyway.  Although, I must admit that for a 114 year-old hobbit, I feel very well indeed.  

Well, except, that is, for the ghost of twinges that I still feel in October and March (I know it is October and March because of them, so they are some kind of calendar for me; funny, isn't it?).  Very slight and easy the pains are now, that I can always brush them off and go on with my day as usual without any help from Lord Elrond.  He was right, Sam.  The healing came from within me.  It began when I decided that I could choose between good memories and dreams, and evil ones.  And from then on it was only a matter of discipline.  I came to Eressea still occasionally dreaming of Mordor.  But of late my dreams were mainly of the Shire before the Ring, of you, my friends and Bilbo.  

I did not really keep track of my age, Sam.  It is the Elves who keep having birthday parties for me.  I had thought that after Bilbo passed away, I did not wish to have anymore birthday parties.  But the Elves would not hear of it.  You should have been here when I turned 100.  The Elves made such a glorious party that went for days; three days before my birthday and three days afterward, to be exact!  They, the Elves, had such a grand celebration over a hobbit turning 100, while they have lived thousands upon thousands of years!  I was touched, Sam. 

But even that party seems pale now compared with yesterday.  As I told you, I was asleep in my chair in front of my unfinished mural.  Then Gandalf woke me up.  He said:

"Wake up, Frodo.  There is someone to see you."

And I yawned and moaned and complained, "Can't it wait, Gandalf?"

Gandalf was smiling and he said, "I am afraid not, Frodo."

And he stood aside.  Behind him there stood an old hobbit, all silver curls and wrinkled face.  But he was a hobbit!  And before I quite overcame my astonishment, he ran over to me, took my hand and kissed it, ran his hand over my face, held me close and started to weep!  And it was only then, Sam, that I knew it was you.  

"I am Sam, Mr Frodo, your own Sam," you said between sobs.  "You said that Ring-bearers should go together, so I have come.  I have come, Mr Frodo!"

And, bless me, Sam, I could not hold back my own tears!  And there we were, in front of the sorry, unfinished mural; two grey, ancient hobbits, weeping in each other's arms.  

What tales you have for me, Sam!  Thirteen children!  Young Pippin became the Took and Thain, and Merry became the Master of Buckland!  A rough voyage by the Sea (poor Sam, you did not even enjoy the short trip by Anduin from Lothlorien). Seven times elected as Mayor!  Oh, Sam!  I felt awful to see you serve my tea yesterday.  I am not your master anymore, Sam, will you listen?  You have become Mayor seven times!   How proud I am of you.   

Oh, there…  I hear you call me.  Is it time for elevenses already?  Dear Sam, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you are here.  I cannot thank the Elves enough for keeping me company all these years.  But to have another hobbit of the Shire beside me, one as good, and loyal, and brave as you, my dearest, dearest Sam, will make my days in Eressea even more beautiful, even more blessed.

Frodo Baggins

**The End**


End file.
